Windspeed
by Wings of Indigo
Summary: Jule used to fly. But now she can do nothing. Her sight is gone: ripped from her in a horrific accident. Sorem, the youngest Companion, has Chosen her, but how can a broken-winged bird ever fly? And how can a blind Herald do what Jule was born for?
1. Chapter 1

_**Warning: I wrote these chapters some time ago, and have every intention of finishing them. Eventually. But right now, I am working on my Doctor Who fiction, and this takes second place.**_

Jule sat firmly on the lean colt she rode. The sun had just risen over the horizon, kissing all of the fields and buildings with golden beams. The young horse was nervous and eager- and fast. Jule sat firmly in his saddle, a streamlined, stripped down, thinner version of the typical saddle, with nothing to keep the rider on but his or her own muscles. She kept a tight hold on the colt- Nightwind- holding him at a prancing crabstep to keep him from bolting, as she approached the line. Her uncle waited several yards before it, ready to lead the nervous young colt to the start. A recent decree had made it track rule to have at least one attendant per animal, on the grounds of greater equality and control over the horses.

_Greater equality, my ass. He just wanted to get a one up on his opponets by having HIS servants start their horses._

Jule lead Nightwind to the line. He needed to become used to waiting before he went off to race for the purses in Haven. She felt him tense as she stopped him before the line, instead of sending him off at a walk. He wanted to RUN!

He fidgeted, eager for the hand on his mouth to disappear and her signal to run, but obedient to her commands. Her Uncle, Lord Devoi's trainer, kept a firm hand on the young colt's mouth.

"Take him around a mile at a slow gallop, then breeze him the last quarter. Make sure he doesn't go to fast for the mile."

Jule nodded her comprehension. Then she turned her attention to the black colt she rode, readying herself for the explosion of speed that would follow her signal.

Her uncle released his hold, and Jule nudged the colt, hard, with her heels . Nightwind stood perfectly still for a heartbeat, and then was off like a bowshot! Jule's hands were lost in his thick mane as she firmly worked the reins, pull and release, to get him to slow down. Nightwind didn't like it- he tossed his head, lashing mane across Jule's face, but he slowed his speed.

His steady hoofbeats sounded as light thuds in the soft dirt of the track, relaxed and not at all like the lightning quick sounds he could have made. Ah, this was what she lived for!

They were traveling at a good clip, but not very fast. The mile post was still a quarter of the track away. Then it was upon them! Heavily she pumped her legs against the horse's sides, though he needed little urging.

He moved into a gallop Jule was sure rivaled even a Companion's; so fast, the scenery blurred. All to soon, they crossed the finish line. She slowed the colt to a tight canter, then to a bouncing trot, and finally to a prancing walk, where she slid off him.

The colt was shiny with sweat, but he still pranced and chomped his bit like he was ready for another work. A groom took Nightwind's bridle as Jule slid the saddle and blanket off the colt's back. The man, one of Lord Devoi's new hirelings began to walk him cool, and lead him back to the stables for a grooming. The horse resisted being lead off the track, pulling his head off to the side to glance back.

Jule laughed as she swung the saddle over the fence to dry before she put it away. He looked like a small child plaintively asking to play_ just one more_ game.

She pulled the practice helm borrowed from the armory off her head and shook out her sweaty chestnut hair, which had been bound- ineffectually- with a leather cord under the helm. Placing the helm on a fence post, she then undid the ties on the borrowed leather practice armor around her midsection.

Her Uncle made her wear the practice armor as an attempt at protection should she take a fall. She often complained that it made her look foolish in front of the jockeys. Jule was only an exercise rider, one of the people who worked the horses in the mornings and afternoons, not a jockey, who rode the horses in their races at Haven, but she had plans for her future.

She picked up her gear and slung it over the saddle, which was now only damp, and approached the two men on the rail, watching the big colt's progress toward the stable.

She greeted the both of them, nodding to one, her uncle, and to the other-

"Good Morning, My Lord." She gave him a smile. Devoi often came to watch his colt's progress before beginning the business of the day.

Devoi smiled back at her. "Good ride, Julia. That horse settled down for you like he will for no one else."

Jule blushed. "I don't know about that, my lord. He likes to go, but he'll listen. The fight he gives you is mostly just show. He's like a little boy, and if he thinks he can get his way, he'll try to. Get his way, I mean." She blushed again, realizing how much she sounded like she was babbling.

Devoi smiled again. "Still, he listens to you, even when he doesn't like it. Jos hasn't been doing too well on him lately, and without the willingness to listen to his rider and wait to make his move in a race, he'll never be more than a sprinter; he'll just run himself out in every distance race I put him in."

"Sir, the Ashkevron sponsored race is coming up in Haven. Perhaps…" her uncle began.

"Ah, yes. Well, how about this, lass; if you continue to do well on him, perhaps you can come with us to Haven for the Ashkevron race."

Jule floundered for a moment, trying to remember how to close her mouth.

"Tha-thank you, My lord."

"You'll work harder than you've ever worked before; Jule," Uncle Travis cautioned "There's a thousand and one things that go wrong on a racing campaign: a girth snaps, a horse wanders off or goes lame; you rise with the sun, eat on the run, and go to bed long after the sunset. You up to it?"

"Yes. Yes!" Jule answered, voice full of conviction. "I don't care how hard I work. It will be worth it to see Nightwind race, and beat all those fancy Ashkevron stallions!"

Travis smiled proudly on his niece.

"See, milord? Told you she'd take the job even if it was washing wraps and making dinner!"

Devoi smiled a little ruefully.

"You did, and I didn't believe you. Well, Julia, if you want the job, I suggest you get a mount of your own. Search the stables for someone to ride, then report yourself to the head groom. He'll have to do without his best exercise rider; her trainer needs her more."

Devoi smiled at her once more, then left.

Once he was gone, Jule through her arms around her uncle.

"Thankyousomuch!" She cried quietly, so not to disturb the spirited and high-strung racehorses.

Travis returned the hug, holding her close. "I wanted to bring you before, but you were too young, and there was no reason to. Now we just have to tell your mother."


	2. Chapter 2

Jule's mother was less than pleased, but over a dinner of roast potatoes and corn, Travis explained to her that Julia was fifteen, nearly old enough to be married, old enough to have an apprenticeship, and that if he had to, HE would take her as an apprentice. And besides, it was HAVEN, by a place frequented by the Highborn AND priceless horseflesh, and If anyone wanted to kidnap or attack someone, they'd have to get beyond the noblefolk's guards, and the horses', and every trainer in the place!

And then Juliana sighed and gave in, with a witty remark and rueful smile.

"I couldn't keep you here, could I? You'd only find a way onto a horse's back and be at Haven before the caravan!"

Jule blushed and looked down at her food.

"On that note," Travis said, "Jule'll need a mount if she's to ride in the caravan. Now don't worry;" He said to Juliana, who had frowned, "I've got a little mare who we were going to use for broodstock, but Devoi will be happy to sell her. She had some promising works, but she started favoring her left fore, and the horse leech said she shouldn't be raced. She goes well enough, she's sound and she'll obey any command you give her. A bit flighty, but Jule should handle her well enough."

Juliana made a small noise of protest.

"We can't afford that; there's no use for you to spend your money on an expensive mare…"

Travis silenced his sister with a smile. "No trouble; she's no stellar pedigree, just the hmm- accidental offspring of a farmer's hunter and one of Devoi's colts. Runaway, I believe his name was. She was supposed to be a hunter; jumped a few fences and beat the racer colts home. Hunter turned racer. She's nigh on a gamble to Devoi; he'll be happy to have her in our Jule's hands."

Juliana relaxed. "If you're sure she's reasonable…" Jule knew then that she had won.

Jule went to bed early that night. The Ashkevron race was only two weeks away, meaning that in order to arrive in time for the horses to accustom themselves from the quiet farm to the busy, loud city of Haven, they would leave this restday, so she would need her sleep. Jule doubted they'd get much rest with the horses to watch.

As early as she had gone to bed, the summer twilight still let her see her room. She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling beams, wondering about the filly her uncle had picked. Runaway was no slacker, he'd won more than his fair share of sprints, always coming from behind. And a hunter dam!

She pictured long, tall fillies with lean muscles and glossy coats, with eager doe-eyes and glossy coats of every color. Eventually, the fillies were joined by mares and colts and stallions, fast and nimble as the wind, led by a beautiful figure clad in white, who carried her into dreams.

She awoke bright and early the next morn, with sunshine pouring in her window. Jule yawned, wondering why she awoke so early. Then she sat bolt upright, remembering. Today Uncle Travis was going to get her a horse.

Jule dressed hurriedly, throwing on breeches and a tunic before stumbling down the stairs in her eagerness.

She breakfasted on the cold remains of last night's supper and shoved on her boots before bolting outside.

Her uncle would already be at the track, checking the condition of the turf and checking on his charges. Taking great joy in the fresh morning air and mist, she walked over the grounds to the track.

Sure enough, Travis was there , holding the lead of an ordinary looking chestnut filly. Jule approached the rail and slid slowly under it, careful not to startle the mare.

"Who's this?"

"This is Lyre," Her uncle said without turning around. "The mare I wanted for you."

Jule looked the mare over. "I thought you said she was Runaway's get."

"She is."

"But she's so- so ordinary looking!"

Her uncle chuckled. "Look again, Julia. Don't be fooled by her brown coat and coarse mane. See her fine head, her graceful carriage? She's a good horse for you, though I'd not let you underestimate her."

Jule obediently looked again. This time, she did see the well-shaped hooves, the graceful arch of her neck, the intelligent eyes and sensitive ears.

"Up on her; girl, let's see how you do with her."

Jule used the fence to boost herself onto the tall mare's back. Lyre fidgeted, but remained still. Silently, Jule stroked the filly's shoulder, thinking calming thoughts and muttering soothingly at her. Lyre quieted, even though she continued to mouth her bit.

"Now just remember," Travis cautioned as he handed her the reins "She's sensitive, so a light cue will do. And warm her up well before you run her, on account of that foot. It needs babying, and that's the only reason you got her. Otherwise she'd be a champion. Now off with ye!"

Jule nudged Lyre to move forward with the lightest of touches. The horse swung willingly forward, eager to move. After a few laps. Jule cautiously moved into a trot. Soon after that, Travis nodded that she could run the mare as she wished.

Jule squeezed, and the mare responded with a surge of power that caught her by surprise. Fast as Nightwind, they moved into the backstretch as one entity. Jule, afraid that she could no longer distinguish between the horse and her, abruptly stopped. Lyre fought her for a few strides, enjoying herself to much to want to stop, but settled down to a sedate canter.

Jule breathed a sigh as Lyre became Lyre and Jule could have her mind to herself. But one thought lingered, and continued to linger until she fell asleep that night.

_What the Hell happened back there?_


	3. Chapter 3

Jule stood slightly below a ridge, impatiently waiting for a large farm wagon to clear the road. Lyre figeted, sneezing wetly and bobbing her head to scratch an itchy forehead on her leg.

Jule let her for a minute, then gently pulled the head up as the wagon finally cleared the ridge. Jule nudged Lyre forward, only to stop her as they reached the ridge. There, far below them Haven sprawled in a large bewildering mass of homes, businesses and people, all crowned by a massive green space that surely, surely housed the Palace and Collegia. Her uncle, riding next to her, gently shook her out of her daze.

He smiled understandingly at her. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Jule nodded mutely, drinking in the vanishing sight of the city as they and the caravan descended the hill. Lyre tugged on the slack rein, wanting to go faster, unimpressed by the vista.

Once the sight of Haven vanished completely, Jule promptly turned back to business.

"How did Nightwind travel? Will his fore be alright for the race?"

While still on the country section of the road, the main reason for the trip had spooked at a rising jackrabbit early one morning, tripping over a branch on the very edge of his picket line.

Jule had been the one to find him, leg caught in the tree branch. She'd woken panicked, with a feeling of fear, pain and entrapment. Fearing the worst, she had run from her tent on the opposite side of camp to the horse's meadow. She had freed his leg, then hauled him up onto his feet, walking him slowly to the horse leech, who had diagnosed a bone bruise, unsure if he should run in his race.

"He's fine. Favoring his fore a bit, but the leech says if it keeps improving, he should be able to run."

Jule breathed a sigh of relief, and turned her attention back to the road, trying not to dwell the odd way she'd saved Nightwind.

The track stretched before them, open and endless. Nightwind's bridle was held by a man in worn riding breeches and jacket on an old dun lead pony. The black colt pranced as he was lead to the post, behind the other powerful, older stallions. One by one they were lead to the line. Her colt figeted restlessly, hemmed in between the older, more experienced stallions.

Then they broke!

Nightwind stumbled on his brusied fore and almost went down, saving himself only by supreme effort. Catching sight of the older stallions already so far ahead, he ignored Jule's commands to slowly gain ground, snatching the bit and taking off, strides long and fast, covering more ground then she thought possible, and yet still going faster.

Soon he past the other horses, but he wouldn't stop or even slow. The reins were snatched out of her hands as she tried to slow him, and all she could do was to cling to his back and pray to Astera she wouldn't fall. If she did, even with the leather practice armor and helm, she'd break her neck or the other horses would for her.

Too late she recalled the supplanted jockey's words- 'Don't let him run in that frenzy of his. If he gets into it, there's no stopping him until the race is won. He'll not listen to you, even at the cost of your life. A race is not worth your life.'

They approached the line as she recovered her reins, pulling with all her strength, fighting to control him. Then, suddenly, violently, he shied, and she felt herself slip and fall down, down, down under the pummeling hooves of the running horses-

Jule woke with a start in her bed in the stables, covered in sweat and out of breath, gasping air into her lungs like she was drowning. Her uncle's calm breathing told her she had not awakened him, and the horses above them slumbered on, blissfully unaware of the girl's panic.

Except one. Lyre. The chestnut mare snuffled at the door to her box, nickering softly, in a worrisome sort of way.

_Are you alright? _ She seemed to say.

"I think so," Jule replied, still half asleep and not wondering at the oddity of talking sensibly to ones' horse.

The mare used her left foreleg to shift through some straw of her bedding.

_Sleep then. No hunters, good food, good water, good bed. What does a dream mean?_ Lyre said.

Jule nodded, sleep overcoming her once more, along with visions of white horses and blue eyes.

After all, what harm could a dream do her?


	4. Chapter 4

Jule swallowed convulsively. This was it. Nervously, she adjusted the ties on the leather practice armor, and shifted the helmet on her head. She and several other young riders were waiting across from the paddock, waiting for the emergence of their horses from the barn, having been kicked out of the preparations for their nerves.

The three other riders, though boys, were in a similar state, and similar attire to her. All four of them wore well- fitted and padded practice armor. All of them were promising riders, and none of their trainers were taking any risks that weren't unavoidable.

Jule licked her dry lips to moisten them, and glanced around, seeking distraction. They still had a good fifteen minutes before the horses began to gather at the post, which was when her Uncle would brief her on strategy. Across the way, several tents were set up, selling hot food and drink, and cheap trinkets. A ministrel began the first bars of a song-

Jule smiled. There was a distraction.

Softly, at first, but then a bit more confidently, in a lyrical contralto, she sang along with the first few bars of 'Threes'

Deep into the stony hills  
miles from town or hold  
a troop of guards comes riding  
with a lady and her gold.  
She rides bemused among them  
shrouded in her cloak of fur  
companioned by a maiden  
and a toothless, aged cur.

The slight breeze must have carried her voice, because the minstrel, dressed in the rust brown of a Bardic trainee, turned around, surprised. For a minute. Then the young man smiled, and gestured for her to keep singing. Jule flushed and shook her head.

The Bardic Trainee arched an eyebrow, but when Jule shrank back into the group of jockeys, he shrugged disappointedly and turned back to his audience.

At that moment, the horses, shiny and supple, with long tails trailing in the breeze, began stepping out of the dark barn, each under the firm hold of his trainer. Jule spotted Nightwind, the lone dark horse in the line, and slid off the fence to join him.

Her uncle smiled and nodded when he saw her, turning the reins briefly over to a groom in order to boost her into the saddle. Jule slipped easily onto the slim leather pad, fitting her feet into the light stirrups- despite the fact they were still moving. Mounting like this was second nature after so long.

Nightwind pranced, both eager to reach the post and showing off for the gray filly in the second paddock- the filly Devoi had just won. Jule laughed, and patted the colt's neck. Behind and in front of her, the other boys had also slid aboard their mounts.

They reached the turf oval of the track, and her Uncle gave her full control of the reins as they peeled off from their entourage. He stood by the colt's shoulder, giving her the last minute advice on their strategy.

"Stay out of the pack. Normally, that would be a good idea for him, but you're not experienced enough for that. Try to stay out front, just behind the leaders. Watch the blood bay, and the palomino. No one else should give you trouble; but those two could easily overwhelm you."

Jule nodded, and gathered up her reins. Her Uncle grabbed the bridle just below the bit. "Don't let him run in that frenzy of his. If he gets into it, there's no stopping him until the race is won."

Jule felt chills run down her spine. Those were the words of her dream! She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat, and nodded. An attendant took Nightwind's bridle from her uncle, and lead them both to the start.

An announcer read off the list of names- the horse, rider, and owner. Jule, however, didn't hear- they all passed in a blur. She checked that her grip on the reins was secure, and that both her feet were firmly in the stirrups. The horses stamped restively, mouthing their bits until white foam appeared at the corners of mouths.

And then the horn blew. As one, the horses surged out of the gate. Jule, taken by surprise, managed to hang on by sheer force of will and the fact that her feet were firmly ensconced in the stirrups.

She clung to Nightwind, to focused on regaining her seat to notice that the young, headstrong colt was surging forward much too fast for good footing. As the horses galloped past the stand, the blood bay colt spooked at a lady's waving scarf. He shied, stumbling sideways across the track, and slamming into Nightwind.

Jule, still not entirely secure after the break, was rocked forward by the force of the blow. The blood bay was also shaken, but his rider managed to get him straightened out and focused.

Jule was a good enough rider that the whole thing would have ended there, but, Nightwind, offset by rebuffing the bay's collision, tripped at that critical moment.

Jule was flung off the saddle, and onto the track, under the hooves of nine other horses. Galloping feet glanced off her helm; several hit her chest, rocking her body with agony.

At last, the horses cleared, and the crowd was able to see. A hush went over the crowd at the sight of Jule, who lay motionless on the track.

A deafening neigh split the air- a chestnut filly, without a stitch of tack and evading all attempts to capture her, cantered up to the prone form. The filly nosed Jule, and after a moment, adopted a protective stance over the girl.

There was a rustle through the crowd, and the track Healer sprinted out to the injured girl, who lay prone in the dirt, moaning softly. He slowed to a fast walk as he approached her, so not to spook the mare, and noting visible injuries. As he knelt by her side, Jule cracked open her lids to see him better with eyes nearly all pupil.

Then the darkness lapping at the edge of her vision rolled up over her and she knew nothing more. The Healer, however, stared, frozen in shock, at his new patient's face.

"Julia?" He asked, in a broken whisper.


	5. Chapter 5

Healer Caitlyn waited with her lover and colleague Healer Idan as he waited outside his daughter's room. Caitlyn had known Idan had a niece, even though he never saw her, he spoke of her and his sister her mother often. She had gathered the gist of the almost tale like story in the chaos that ensued when Idan had seized the girl's own, personal horse, suddenly there and willing to help , and pounded up to the Healer's Collegium with her in his arms, her blood staining his greens. Greens he was still wearing, unnoticed, as he waited before the half-open door.

The girl had been riding her first race in employment as a jockey, when her mount had tripped on some bad ground, she fell of the still galloping horse onto the track, where her father, acting track Healer, had found her, running out to treat an injury that carried a grim prognosis in the best of times.

_Ah, the lot of the Healer. Waiting for the next bloody, mangled wreck to come in the door, not knowing who it is, and praying that it's no one you know. _

Acting under extreme emotional duress, Idan still had managed to follow his training and save his niece's life. Now she was in the hands of the best, and only the gods would decide whether she would live or not.

Idan slumped in his seat, exhausted from the strenuous day and extensive Healing he had done. Caitlyn slipped her arm around his shoulders, knowing only too well that if family was in Healers, you could not leave, not for patients, fire, or flood. Her own brother, Herald-Mage Trainee Darvon had been in one of those rooms several times.

The door, already slightly ajar, swung open under the hand of one of the Healers in the room. He looked haggard and worn, as did the younger woman who still stood by the cot in a healing trance.

"She'll make it. Be damned if I know how or why, but she'll live. The protection she was wearing saved her life." He held open the door. "You can come in now. We've got painblocks on her, since her injuries were so severe, and she's pretty well sedated for Leslie's Healing, so don't be surprised if she doesn't respond."

Idan nodded as he went in, not trusting his voice to speak as he hurried to Jule's side. The Healer, Leslie, kneeled on the floor with her eyes closed as she exercised her gift to repair her patient's broken body and save her life in the process.

Though well-sedated and nearly asleep, as promised, Julia sighed, not with pain, but relief and relaxation as the Healer did her work.

Leslie finally stood up, wincing a little from the pain of kneeling on the wood floor.

"Gods, I feel like hell. You can talk to her now, while I go try not to pass out."

The older Healer supported and scolded her at the same time as he led her to a bench.

"You know better than to exhaust yourself like that!"

Leslie gave a weak smile.

"As if you wouldn't do the same." Leslie said dryly, then quietly fainted on the bench.

Bertrick sighed as he laid his pupil and niece down on the padded seat. "She always does this," He muttered to himself. "Honestly. If she wasn't so sensible away from her patients, she could be a Herald."

Caitlyn came up to him as he positioned his niece comfortably on the seat.

"The girl-what are her chances?"

Bertrick spoke gruffly, not looking up. "I don't know. No one does. We have to wait until she wakes."

"And?"

"She'll never ride a race again. Ride- maybe. Her spine cracked slightly, and she pinched a nerve and damaged several others. She passed out, and we haven't had a chance to evaluate her head. Again, we have to wait and see. She could be paralyzed from the waist down; she could have dazzle headaches for the rest of her life; but she could wake and be fine, aside from her arm, wrist, and back."

"So we wait."

Bertrick nodded. "So we wait."

#

Jule floated in a black haze of pain, wondering why she wasn't dead. Or was she? The Havens didn't have pain, right?

The race's last moments kept replaying themselves over and over in her head as she distantly realized that she was being jolted about on horseback, in someone's arms, as the person rode headlong for a destination she knew not.

Her fall, the sickening _Crack! _of her bones, the jolt to her head that stunned her, and the heavy hoofbeats of racehorses galloping for home on the backstretch. By some miracle only one heavy hoof had landed on her prone back, and only for a second.

Finally the confusing blur of color and sound died away, along with feeling. But the images remained. She cringed from them as she had never shied from anything, mentally screaming for something, _anything,_ to _please_ _take it away!_

As if she had wished it, warm verdant green ribbons threaded with gold pierced the dark and healing the places that were agony, spreading warmth and healing in their wake. She reveled in them, sighing with relief, until the presence of peace and lack of vision lulled her to true sleep.


End file.
